I looked up at the moon
She had wasted away
She was crying, her tears splattering with a rhythmic pitter patter on my roof

As I lay in my bed, watching her cry,
She wrapped herself in clouds
Perhaps a veil of mourning

A few nights later, the sky was empty, black but for little bits of light poking through from far away

But the next night, I looked up
She was there, barely there,
But she was gaining strength
Becoming her old self again
Each night she grew stronger and fuller until she was the only thing in the sky, filling the horizon
She shined brightly
I could see her
And I could hear her humming, her song whistling through the branches of trees, tapping a beat on my window pane, singing me to sleep

Oh the moon, she comes and goes
But every night I see her
Sometimes she grows brighter
Sometimes she shrinks into herself
But every night she is beautiful
And everyday I wait for night to come so I may see her